


Broken Glass

by timelordangel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Angst, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Great Depression, M/M, protective!Dean, they live in nyc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:43:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelordangel/pseuds/timelordangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is seventeen and struggling to take care of himself and Sam during the 1930's when he meets the butcher's son, Cas, and discovers he needs him more than he originally planned. As their world collapses, they are forced to use every ounce of strength they hold to keep from being dragged down with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bread

Late October, 1931

Two years after the stock market crashed.

As Dean walked, the air nipped his cheeks and snuck under the collar of his coat. He shuddered and pulled out his key as he approached the decaying building with rusty staircases leading up to rusty doors. He dragged his feet up a staircase on the far left of the building and shoved the key into the feeble lock, giving the knob a rough twist to push open the door.

“Hey Sammy.” Dean began to take off his coat before pausing and pulling it back on, grimacing at the cold air colliding with his skin.

“Hi Dean,” Sam looked up from the small bed in the corner of the tiny apartment. “Have you heard from Dad?”

“No, of course I haven’t. You know he’s looking for work, Sammy.” Dean growled and pulled a towel out of his pocket and threw it on the table in the center of the room. “Eat up.”

“Where’d you get this?” Sam asked after crawling off the bed and picking up the object wrapped in the towel, revealing it to be a chicken leg.

“Where do you think?” Dean scoffed. Sam squinted disapprovingly. “Don’t you dare look at me like that. Nobody’s going to give a seventeen year old work, and we need food somehow.”

“That’s supposed to be Dad’s job.” Sam muttered, reluctantly picking at the chicken leg.

“Well dad doesn’t have a job, does he?” Dean retorted. He rolled his eyes and walked over to turn on the lamp by the door, deciding it was finally dark enough to do so.

After Sam finished eating they sat together in silence made comfortable by the fact they did this every day, but eventually Sam sighed deeply and declared he was still hungry. Dean bit back a remark about how he hadn’t eaten more than a bite of bread today and that stealing was pretty difficult, and instead promised he’d get more food tomorrow. Sam didn’t bother holding back his comment that his brother said this every day, and proceeded to ignore Dean and go back to the bed.

“You know, we could be a lot worse Sam.” Dean said into the darkness that night, their dad still out, to Sam.

“I know.” Sam replied softly. “I just miss the way things used to be.”

“We all do, kid. Now get some rest, Dad will be home soon.” Dean rolled over and slowed his breathing to mimic sleep and lay still. It was the same every night: Dean would promise that Dad would be home soon, and Sam would face the wall as far away from Dean as possible and try to not let his brother hear him cry.

John Winchester woke them up at six am to give them the loaf of bread he had bought the night before and to tell his sons that he was leaving town to keep looking for work, and he’d be back in a few days. Dean woke up again at eight fifteen and told Sam he was going out, but didn’t explain why. He shrugged on his coat and pulled on shoes before walking out into the cold, shoving his hands in his pockets and glaring at the bleak and angry world around him.

There were all sorts of people in the streets crying and begging on their knees for everything from their houses to the food somebody had thrown out. Dean had hardened against the sad eyes of the needy and the angry shouts of the distressed, too far gone in the madness of the depression. As far as he was concerned, he had one job. That one job was to take care of his younger brother, and that he would do until the day the depression ended, if it would end at all.

He found himself leaning against the large glass window looking into the small butcher’s shop on the corner of his street, gazing woefully at the display of meats and cheeses he could never afford. His stomach growled and ached persistently.

“You know, it tastes better than it looks.” A boy about his age smiled at him from the door to the shop. Dean frowned.

“I’m sure it does, but these days I’m better off living off of sight. Cheaper, you know.” Dean scoffed, avoiding eye contact with the brunet.

“We all know how that is. Business is hurting.” The boy agreed, walking over to Dean. “The name’s Castiel, by the way.”

“Dean Winchester.” Dean shook Castiel’s hand. “Do you work here?”

“No, not really. Well, I guess I do by default. I’m the butcher’s son, so I don’t get paid or anything.” Castiel chuckled sadly, running a hand through his hair.

“I wish I had a family business.” Dean smirked, “Nobody will hire a kid around here, not while men don’t have work.”

“I would offer you a job here, but dad had to lay everyone off a while back, and now it’s just us. He always said it hurt him the most to put people we considered our family out on the streets, but we just couldn’t afford it.”

“You’d offer me a job if you could? Why me, I’m just like every other runt searching for work in this town.” Dean laughed humorlessly.

“Nobody just stares at food from the street unless he a, hasn’t eaten in a couple days, and b, already knows even if he could afford it he wouldn’t be eating it himself. “ Cas mused.

“You observe a lot, meat boy.”

“I like people. I think it’s interesting how different we all are, even in the same situation. At the same time we’re all together in this, and also completely alone.”

“Most days it feels more like alone.” Dean muttered.

“You don’t have to feel alone. If you’d like a friend…” Cas smiled softly.

Dean looked at him, stunned for a second. “Sure. Let’s be friends, Cas.”

A few minutes later Cas’ dad called him back into the shop and Dean went on his way. He ended up in Central Park, choosing a free spot in the grass to lie back and look up at the sky.  The clouds were probably the only things that still looked the same as they did three years ago, Dean thought.

On his way home, he waved to Cas through the glass window and the next day he was walking to the park with Sam and Dean couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed when Cas wasn’t there.

“Were you looking for somebody?” Sam asked as they walked.

“No.” Dean lied, deciding that maybe it was better that he not have friends.

Throughout the next week Dean would see Cas when he could, and speak to him twice. They would have five minute conversations about the newest movies they had not seen, or the popular books they were too busy to read. After a few days, Cas admitted to Dean that he hadn’t been able to smile this much with anyone else, and Dean silently agreed.

 It was five days later when he found himself waking up to freezing toes and hands.

“Sammy?” he sat up straight and looked over at his brother, fast asleep. Sam stirred.

“Mmm?”

“Sammy, I think the heating’s out.” Dean slid from the bed and shivered. “Fuck.”

“We need to pay for it. The man said we needed to pay for it.” Sam slurred, pulling the sheets up to his nose.

“What man? Did the electrical man come? And you didn’t tell me?” Dean stressed, “Sam! Wake up!”

“We’ll deal with this later, Dean.” Sam groaned sleepily.

“How much did he say it was, for five more months?” Dean pleaded, pulling out the brick in the wall to reveal the stash of the money.

“Twenty five dollars.” Sam sat up, yawning. “We don’t have it. It doesn’t matter.”

“Sam, it’s going to be winter soon. Winter’s in ‘York aren’t pretty without heat.” Dean sat down at the table and buried his face in his hands, the three dollars and fifteen cents on the table unimpressive. “What the hell are we going to do? Dad will be so pissed at us.”

“Why the hell does dad care, he’s never around.” Sam scoffed, rubbing his hands together.

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you! Making money and keeping you warm and shit.” Dean shouted.

“I’m fifteen! I’m fine without your help! I’m just another mouth to feed.” Sam shouted back, his face pained through the darkness.

“Sammy, don’t you ever say that. I’m going to find the money and we’ll get the electricity back up and everything will be okay.” Dean stood, taking a deep breath. “I’ll be back later.” He grabbed his coat despise Sam’s noise of protest.

“Hey! Don’t go!”

“I’ve got to.” Dean murmured, heading for the door. “Don’t leave, and put on your coat. I’ll try to get food for you, but you can have the rest of the bread. I already ate.”

“You’ve not had any bread! It’s six in the morning!” Sam protested.

“Shut up Sam, I’ll be back soon.” And with that Dean was out the door, almost running down the street. He didn’t know why he needed to be there until he was desperately knocking at the door of the butcher, feeling ridiculous.

“Boy, we ain’t open.” The butcher opened the door and cocked his head at Dean. “The hell you doing?”

“I’m sorry sir, I just need to speak to your son. Castiel.” Dean spoke quickly.

“He owe you money?” The man asked.

“No sir, I-“

“Good. Come back when he’s on shift.” The door was unceremoniously slammed in Dean’s face.

 He swallowed hard and ran a tongue over his top lip, his breathing hard.  He sat down on the dirty curb, littered with bits of paper and an almost poignant aroma of despair. Dean thought of Sam back home cold, confused and hungry and he dug his nails into his arms, fighting tears. Of all the people he had to pretend to be strong for, fooling himself was the hardest.

The sun was coming up just as Dean heard the door behind him open.

“Dean?” Cas sounded relieved, perhaps that Dean was still there.

Dean stood up and tried to regain his composure. “Cas.”

“Are you okay?” Cas asked, wiping his hands on his jeans as his features crumpled in worry.

“Not really. Not at all.” Dean confessed, crossing his arms. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“My dad told me somebody was looking for me, and I figured it was you because you’re the only person who knows I’m here most of the time.”

Cas’ apartment was above the butchery and he shared it with his grandparents, aunt, uncle, and three siblings. The two ended up sitting on the stairs in the back of the shop with their shoulders pressed together.

“So you’ve got a brother you feel obliged to care for completely because your dad is never around and your mom died when you guys were young in a house fire.” Cas repeated, “And now you need twenty five dollars to pay for electricity. That’s rough.”

“And here I am telling my life story to somebody I barely know.” Dean shook his head, unwilling to admit how much better he felt after talking to Cas.

“Would you like to know more?” Cas smiled and for a second Dean wanted to smile back at him.

“Sure. Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m seventeen, and I’ve lived in New York my whole life. My dad’s really important and he doesn’t pay much attention to me, not nearly as much attention as he pays to my brothers Micheal and Gabriel. I’ve also got a sister, who is my mom’s favorite. I’ve also been told I observe too much.” Cas smirked at the end, making Dean chuckle.

“Fair enough. Your family sounds pretty cool. Do you get along with your brothers?” Dean asked warmly.

Cas cocked his head. “I suppose. Micheal is twenty as of last spring, and he’s a bit pretentious. He worries about me a lot, sometimes though I think that’s the only thought he puts towards me. Gabe and I get along, but he’s better at things than I am, and he knows it. Do you get along with Sam?”

“Ah yeah, we’re really close. I would do anything for that kid.” Dean’s mind flickered back to the image of Sam alone in their apartment right now.

“That’s really neat.” Cas murmured. “I’ve never really been close with anyone.”

“Sometimes I think I’d be better off if I was alone in this world, but I can’t imagine not being there for Sammy.” Dean sighed, subconsciously leaning closer to Cas.

“It’s not much fun being lonely, trust me.” Cas laughed in a very sad way.

“Hey, you’re not alone. We’re friends, right?” Dean nudged him with his shoulder.

“Yeah. Thanks Dean.” Cas managed a smile.

Eventually Castiel had to return to work and Dean needed to return home, but before Dean left Cas gave him a brief hug that Dean thought about the entire way home. Surely that was normal, he argued with himself.

Sam glared at him when Dean returned, but soon after expressed how glad he was that Dean was only gone for about two hours instead of the whole day.

“Where were you, anyway?” Sam asked as he flipped through his copy of The Sun Also Rises.

“Don’t ask.” Dean groaned. “Just out.”

“But really, where do you go?” Sam pressed.

“I went to see a friend.” Dean replied reluctantly with carefully chosen wording.

“Oooo a lady friend?” Sam perked up.

“No!” Dean snapped.

“I know that look. You like this lady friend.” Sam smiled deviously, drumming his fingers on the table.

“I do not, Sam! It’s not a lady friend! It’s a boy, and he’s the butcher’s son.” Dean grumbled.

Sam’s smile fell. “Oh. Can I meet him?”

“Maybe.” Dean considered. “Sam, we need to get the electricity back on. I think I have to go get help.”

“I thought dad said we would never take handouts.”

“Well he doesn’t have to take them. We need them.”

“Come on Dean, we can do this!” Sam pleaded, “We can make the money and get it back on before Dad finds out.”

“Whatever, Sam. Dad’s not finding work, I’m not finding work, and we might as well not even be trying.” Dean said, exhaustion seeping into his voice.

“Never stop trying, Dean. That’s what mom would want us to do.”

“Don’t you dare talk about mom!” Dean snapped. “She wouldn’t have even had us if she knew this was coming. I know she wouldn’t ever want us to go through this.”

“I can talk about her if I want to!” Sam replied, snarling. “You aren’t the only one who misses her like hell!”

“No, but I’m damn sure the one who gets to make the rules.” Dean raised his eyebrows.

“You’re not dad!”

“But I am older!” Dean smirked.

“Shut up!” Sam yelled.

“Respect your elders!” Dean shouted.

“I wouldn’t respect you if you were the King of England!” Sam shouted back.

“Fine, I guess I’m useless here.” Dean shrugged like he didn’t care and headed towards the door.

“Stop fucking leaving me here alone!” Sam screamed.

“Watch your language!” Dean spun around.

“Dad’s not here, I can do what I want!”

“Why do you care so much about dad?!” Dean squinted, his mouth falling open in angry confusion.

“Why do you not care at all?!” Sam mimicked his expression and stood up from the table, zipping up his coat. “I’m leaving.”

“Like hell you are.”

“Try and stop me.” Sam walked out, slamming the door.

Dean cursed and stood, walking after him. “Sam, get back here.”

“Like hell I’ll get back there.” Sam mocked, beginning to run.

“Sammy! Sam! SAM!” Dean shouted from the top of the metal stairs leading to the apartment door. Sam kept running, turning the corner before Dean could shout again. He cursed under his breath and went back into the house, knowing Sam would be back soon.

The apartment was unusually quiet without dad or Sam, and for once Dean was able to breathe and relax a bit. Of course, only if he ignored the ache of his stomach. A part of him wanted to invite Cas to come hang out with him, but it all seemed too normal. A friend coming over to hang out was not something that happened when your entire family was struggling to eat once a day. And anyway, Sam would be back soon and he might not like Cas being there.

But when the silence became too much, he ditched the quiet confines of the small two-room and walked down to the butcher shop, leaning against the glass. Cas saw him quickly and grinned.

“Twice in one day, I’m beginning to think you like me.” Cas joked, but Dean didn’t exactly laugh. Something stirred in him, something very deeply repressed.

“Just a bit bored, not much to do on a Saturday.” Dean lied, walking around the shop and idly looking at the cases of meats.

“We could go to the park or something, if you want.” Cas wiped off a counter, “We don’t always need to hang around work.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Dean grinned. “When do you get off?”

They found themselves in Central Park near where Dean was looking at the clouds, and the weather was beautifully clear and not too cold for the tail end of October. They were sitting by the massive pond in the middle of the park, dangling their legs over the edge.

Cas couldn’t help but land his gaze on Dean’s face, his eyes trailing over the freckles that were scattered like stars over Dean’s skin. He fought back the urge to reach out and touch them, to run his fingers across them.

“Is there something on my face?” Dean grinned, turning to face his friend.

“No- no. I just like your freckles.” Cas blushed, embarrassed. “You know, when I was younger my mother always said freckles were kisses from angels.”

“I like that.” Dean smiled softly.

“Do you believe in angels, Dean?”

Dean paused, considering carefully. He turned back to face the water before replying. “I don’t know. I believe in good people, and I believe that there’s something watching out for us. My mom used to tell me that angels were watching over me, but I’m not so sure. I just hope she is.”

“I bet your mom was beautiful.” Cas looked out over the water, following Dean’s gaze.

“She was.” Dean breathed.

“Maybe the pretty lady you marry will be as lovely a woman as she was.” Cas mumbled. Had the park not been close to deserted near this part, Dean might have missed the comment at all.

“I don’t know. I’m not really planning on getting married.”

“I feel like when you get older though you need somebody. Somebody constant, who loves you,” Cas said, running a hand through his hair.

“Nobody would love this royal mess, trust me.” Dean scowled.

“I don’t think you’re a mess.” Cas looked up at Dean from under his long eyelashes.

“You haven’t known me very long, Cas.” Dean hummed, swinging his legs back over the side and standing. “Come on, let’s walk around.”

Cas shrugged and joined Dean on two feet. The wind picked up as the sun dipped low in the sky; Cas’ bright blue eyes reflected the setting sun and seemed to almost sparkle, to Dean’s wonder.

“You have cool eyes.” Dean remarked, turning his gaze to the concrete under his feet.

“So do you. Green is my favorite color.” Cas smiled, his eyes still glistening.

“Sometimes I forget they’re green and not black, like my soul.” Dean cracked, making Cas chuckle.

“Okay, weirdo. I’m sure your soul is just as beautiful as your eyes. Which are, hang on,” Cas comically stopped Dean from walking and peered into his eyes, “Yep, definitely not black.”

Dean tried to disregard the way his breath caught when Cas had a hand on his shoulder and his eyes locked on his own, but he had trouble ignoring it. They kept walking.

“Do you just leave Sam in the apartment?” Cas wondered, turning his head in the breeze and looking at the trees.

“He’s out right now, somewhere. I guess usually he just stays home.” Dean crinkled his nose as the wind blew his hair around. “He asked to meet you.”

“Oh, so you spoke of me?” Cas raised his eyebrows, his cheeks coloring slightly.

“Once or twice.” Dean shrugged. “It’s nice to have a friend.”

“You’re pretty cool, Dean.” Cas nodded, “And you have pretty eyes.”

They both laughed for a moment, forgetting about the cold air whipping around them.

“It’s getting pretty late, maybe we should head back?” Dean frowned at the disappearing sun.

“Oh, time flies, I suppose so. You need to check on Sam, don’t you?” Cas frowned slightly at the ground.

“Hey, you okay?” Dean paused, putting a hand on Cas’ shoulder.

“Yeah. I was just thinking about how much better it would be for my family if I never came home, you know?” Cas bit his lower lip.

“No!” Dean rushed, “No, Cas that’s not true. A lot of people think their families would be so much better without them because of money and stuff but it’s not true. Family is there for you through everything, and leaving would just make it worse.”

“Dean, you keep thinking that. Your dad is never around to tell you that I’d be better if you weren’t around, but mine is.” Cas avoided eye contact.

“Oh, Cas…” Dean breathed out heavily.

“I can’t even feel sorry for myself, because it’s true.” Cas laughed sharply and the sound made Dean’s heart sink. “It’s so fucking true.”

“Even if you think they think that, I doubt it’s true. And even if it is, I care about you.” Dean hesitated before gently putting his hands around Cas’ waist and hugging him softly. Cas hugged back for a brief second before stepping back and rubbing quickly at his eyes.

“Thanks, Dean. I appreciate it.”

“Hey, you’re the first friend I’ve had in years and I don’t think I could have found a better person to be friends with.” Dean smiled, trying to get Cas to do the same. “Let’s go home.”

They walked back together in the fading daylight in a comfortable silence. When they reached the door to the butcher shop, their eyes lingered on each other for a few extra seconds, as if something deep inside of them didn’t really want to say goodbye.

But the moment ended, and Cas nodded before disappearing into the building, leaving Dean outside and, suddenly, so much colder.

Dean pushed his way into the house expecting Sam to be there, but instead finding his father.

“Dad!” Dean’s eyes widened, shock taking over. John Winchester was a gruff man of about 45, his beard gray and stiff and his expression always one of distress. If asked, Dean would deny he was intimidated by his father, but it would be a lie. Few were not.

“Dean. I was scared, I came back to a cold and empty apartment.” John grimaced.

“The electricity shut off.” Dean all but stammered.

“No shit, Sherlock.” John nudged the papers on the table. “Where’s your brother?”

“Out.” Dean felt guilt and panic set in as he realized he truly had no idea where Sam was.

“Out where, son?” John asked sternly, gritting his teeth.

“I don’t know. He’ll be back soon.” Dean shrugged past his father and sat on the bed, pulling off his shoes.

John glared at Dean before turning back to the papers. “I think I found work in Kansas.”

“Kansas? That’s ages from here.” Dean pulled his legs up on the bed.

“You boys will come with me.” John muttered.

“What?” Dean started.

“You’ll come with me to Kansas. Wide open land will do us all good, and I’ll have a job.”

“No. I’m not leaving here.” Dean clenched his jaw. “Not now, not ever.”

“You’re talking like you’ve got a girl, Dean.” John chuckled.

“It’s not that.” Dean said sharply, reprimanding himself for immediately thinking of Cas.

“Good. I’ll see if they want me for the job, and then we’ll pack up your brother and head to Kansas. Go to bed Dean, I’ll wait up for Sam.” John nodded to Dean.

“Night, Dad.” Dean felt uncomfortable with his father there, but pulled the blanket up to his neck and fell asleep surprisingly quickly.

His pleasant, dreamless sleep was soon interrupted by ice cold hands grabbing the collar of his t-shirt and dragging him out of bed, throwing him against the floor. Dean coughed and scrambled to his feet, ignoring the burning ache in his neck.

“What the hell?” Dean gasped.

“Dean, where the fuck is Sam?! What happened to him?!” John screamed, grabbing Dean’s arm and twisting it.

Dean cried out in pain, his knees buckling. “I don’t know! I don’t know where he is!”

“Boy, you had one job!” He kicked Dean in the leg, “One fucking job!” Kick. “Protect your brother!” Kick. “Watch out for Sammy!” Kick. “And you fucked it up!” Kick. “You fuck everything up, Dean!”

“I’m so-sorry,” Dean stammered through the blood dripping from his nose, “I’m s-so s-sorry, D-dad.”

“Don’t apologize, get on your feet and go find your brother!” John yanked Dean to his feet by his hair, Dean’s face contorting in pain.

“It’s f-four am.” Dean gasped, holding his side.

“Perfect time to go. And you come back with your brother, or don’t come back at all. Am I clear?!” John yelled, throwing a dish cloth at his son.

“Y-yes sir.” Dean struggled to say through the blood and pain, but pulled himself together and put on his shoes before running out the door, barely making it to the bottom of the rusting staircase before breaking down crying.

Cas found him an hour later bloody and bruised on the back side of the butchery, clinging to his jacket and breathing roughly.

“C-cas.” Dean breathed, relief flooding his voice.

“Dean, what the hell happened to you?” Cas dropped to his knees, pulling Dean closer.

“My father found out,” Dean took a breath, “he found out that Sam left.”

“Sam left?” Cas stood and helped Dean stand, pulling him towards into shop through the back door.

“Yesterday, he never c-came home.”

“Come here.” Cas turned on the skink in the utility room and began cleaning the blood off of Dean’s face. “Shhh, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Dean was panicking badly; his breathing was skewed and he was dry sobbing into Cas’ shoulder, barely able to speak. “What am I gunna do, Cas? What am I gunna do?”

“We’re going to find Sam.” Cas repeated over and over, desperately trying to calm Dean. It took twenty minutes to clean off all the blood and let Dean collapse against the wall of the utility room. Cas joined him, taking his hand and squeezing it softly. “I’m here, okay? It’s going to be okay.”

Dean buried his head in Cas’ chest and sobbed, letting Cas comfort him. Later, Dean would admit that he had never let anyone see him that vulnerable before, but in that moment Dean had trusted Cas more than anyone else in the universe.

And so they sat together, and they held each other together, and when Dean had calmed down and plucked himself off Cas’ lap, they got up together.

“Are you okay?” Cas asked in a hushed whisper, inches from Dean’s face. Dean’s eyes were red and swollen and his lip burned bright red where John’s fist had collided. The right side of his face bore a deep purple bruise along his cheekbone.

“Yeah, Cas.” Dean took a steadying breath, “Thank you. I needed you.”

“I’ve got to get to work, but you can stay in my room if you want. There’s the main room, and then the two bedrooms. The one on the left is the brothers’ room, you can stay there.”

“I’ve got to go look for Sam.” Dean’s voice was pained.

“No. I want to look with you.” Cas shook his head, subconsciously reaching out to take Dean’s hands.

“I don’t want him to be out there all alone.” Dean didn’t pull away.

“And I don’t want you out there alone. It’s a fair deal, Dean.” Cas pleaded.

“Okay. Okay.” Dean allowed. “We’ll go when you get off work. If you don’t mind, I’ll be upstairs.”

“Of course not.” Cas smiled, staring at Dean. Dean smiled back before they realized they were still holding hands and quickly let go, Cas blushing furiously.

Dean lied in the brothers’ shared bed and listened to the chatter and rattling of dishes in the business below, trying to distinguish Cas’ voice from the others. Every once in a while he could, and he smiled to himself.

Dean didn’t know where Sam had gone off to, or why he had left, but a part of him felt like he thought Sam had run off because he didn’t think he was anything but a burden to their family. Guilt weighed on his shoulders like a two ton brick and threatened to crush him into pieces, like always, because he felt completely responsible for Sam’s running away.

Of course, another part of his brain argued, Sam could be dead in an alley somewhere. That idea was a lot worse, Dean reasoned, so he chose to believe that Sam was nearby and would return when he realized just how much he was needed.

Cas could help him, he decided.

Cas, with his perfect advice and brilliant comforting skills. In fact, Dean realized, he had never met a anyone who could understand him the way Castiel could.

And despite the deep repression of feelings lodged in his heart, he had somehow allowed himself to break down in front of Cas and let him see the weak, questioning, not-so-brave side of Dean Winchester.

In the end, all he really knew was that he needed Cas more than he had ever needed anyone. And with this thought, Dean drifted off. 


	2. Shattered

Dean and Cas left Cas' place after Cas got off work and reluctantly woke Dean up. They decided to check the closest shanty town in the area for Sam first; Dean having claimed that that’s where he would have gone had he been in Sam's shoes.

As the sun beat down on the city they went from shanty town to shanty town, ending up in Central Park again.

“Dean, we’ve been looking for hours.” Cas sighed, leaning against a railing.

“We haven’t checked the tents pitched over there!” Dean pointed to a group of tents in a field.

“Come on.” Cas nodded, beginning to walk over. Dean followed quickly, ignoring the miserable looking people surrounding the area.

“Excuse me,” Cas stopped a teenage boy about their age, “Have you seen a fifteen year old boy around here?”

“Who’s asking?” The boy tilted his head, speaking in a thick English accent.

“His brother.” Dean spoke up. “Does he look a bit lost, long hair, dopey smile?”

“If you’re talking about Evan, boy said he doesn’t want to be found.” The boy smirked.

“Thank god you’ve found him.” Dean breathed. “Just let me talk to him, please.”

“Dean, he said Evan.” Cas half-whispered to Dean, obviously confused.

“He wouldn’t use his real name of course.” Dean scoffed, “I know his tricks.”

The stranger looked confused. “I’ll tell him you’re here.”

He returned a few minutes later with a very angry looking Sam.

“Dean.” Sam said dryly, crossing his arms.

“Evan.” Dean mocked.

“What happened to your face?” Sam ignored him, looking with distaste at the bruises.

“You know what would happen when dad found out you left.” Dean scoffed.

“I’m sorry.” Sam muttered.

“Whatever, just come back. Dammit Sammy.”

“Who’s that?” Sam ignored Dean and nodded towards Cas, who was standing back a few feet looking worried.

“That’s Cas.” Dean explained. “Who’s that?” He nodded at the boy who brought them Sam.

“Balthazar.” Sam said in the same tone.

“Nice to meet you Balthazar, I’m Dean.” Dean stuck out a hand which Balthazar shook a bit hesitantly. “Now, come on baby brother. Let’s go home.”

“I guess I can leave now.” Cas piped up from behind Dean.

“No! I mean, unless you want to. I’d like for you to come back with us, if you wanted.” Dean stammered.

“Okay, is that alright with you, Sam?” Cas turned to see Sam talking to Balthazar.

“He’ll be fine with it. Sam, come on!” Dean snapped Sam out of his conversation.

Sam reluctantly joined Dean and Cas, staring at his feet as they walked home.

The air was getting colder by the day as it was a week into November and all the shops that would usually stay open longer to cater to the Christmas shoppers were now closing early to allow the heating to stay off longer. Nobody had money for Christmas presents this year.

Cas and Dean stopped at the same time at the door to the butcher as Sam kept walking.

“Let’s hang out tomorrow.” Cas offered, “I know a cool little place we can get pop for like three cents. I’ll buy you one.”

“Hey, that sounds great.” Dean grinned, “Meet here at five o’clock?”

“Perfect.” Cas grinned back.

“And hey, Cas?” Dean said softly, “Thank you for letting me crash here this morning, and helping me look for Sam. You didn’t need to help me, and you did. That means a lot.”

“What are friends for?” Cas chuckled. “Goodnight Dean.”

“G’night Cas.” Dean gave one last smile before turning and jogging to catch up to Sam.

Their dad wasn’t home, thankfully, but Sam crawled into the bed and fell asleep quickly despite the cold air taking over the apartment. Dean scowled and sat on the table, crossing his legs and picking up Sam’s book, trying to distract himself.

At least he had tomorrow to look forward to.

The sun broke bright and early the next morning, flooding the room with light. Dean shoved Sam off him and slid out of bed, his dirty feet hitting the even filthier floor with a slight thump.

“It’s freezing.” Dean muttered, turning around to pull the blanket over Sam again. He walked across the room and glanced at the washing board and tub, wondering if it was worth it to wash his clothes.

“Nah.” He said to himself, running the water for just enough time so he could wash his hair and face. The water was even colder than the air and stung his skin, making him gasp, but he kept going, running the water over again until he felt clean enough for two people. The bruise on his face was healing slowly but surely, and in the smudged mirror above the basin it was hardly visible.

He spent the rest of the morning letting Sam sleep and adding up the money his dad managed to acquire from horse racing bets to his small fund.

“Sixteen dollars.” Dean groaned, his breath lingering, visible in the air as if to punctuate his distress.

“We only need eight more.” Sam said sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

“Hey, when’d you get up?” Dean looked curiously at his brother.

“Few minutes ago, you were singing Fanny Brice loud enough for the neighbors to hear.”

“Shut up.” Dean stuck out his tongue.

“Are you sure you’re the older brother?” Sam climbed out of bed, yawning before looking Dean over. “Woah, you’re clean.”

“You calling me dirty usually?” Dean raised his eyebrows.

“No, it’s just we’re always dirty. But you aren’t right now.” Sam squinted as he bore holes into Dean’s face.

“Gotta be clean occasionally.” Dean chuckled, “Maybe you could try it too.”

“Water’s expensive.” Was Sam’s only reply.

Dean and Sam went out to the local grocery shortly after and bought a pound of rice, Dean stealing three cans of beans while Sam was paying the ten cents for rice. By two in the afternoon they had returned, Dean putting the food under the bed.

“I’ll make you rice for dinner.” Sam leaned down and took the rice back out.

“Make it for yourself, I’m going out with Cas.” Dean shrugged, reaching to pull a pan out of the cabinet.

“Oh, right. Will you eat there?” Sam took the pan, putting a few inches of water in it.

“Probably not.” Dean replied honestly but casually enough to not make Sam press more questions.

“Dean! You never eat!” It didn’t work.

“Sammy, I’m fine. I eat enough, and you’re more important.” Dean stressed, slamming the cabinet door. “Make the rice.”

Sam stayed quiet but eyed his brother with worry, biting his lip. Eventually his gaze stayed on the boiling water on the little stove, for which Dean was thankful.

Sam forced him to have at least a little of the rice after Dean refused to eat half of it, and it was gone within seconds.

“Thanks Sammy.” Dean smiled, his plate completely clean. “Since you cooked, does this mean I clean?”

“I’ll clean them, I’ve got nothing better to do. You should go out and have fun.” Sam took their plates and put them by the wash tub.

“Thanks Sammy. I’ll be back by midnight.” Dean re-tied his stretched out shoelaces and stood, pushing his chair back under the table.

“Bye Dean.” Sam droned as Dean left, locking the door behind him.

Dean smoothed out his shirt as he walked up to Cas’ door, nervous for no apparent reason. Cas answered moments later, his smile wide.

“Right on time!” Cas proclaimed, stepping out into the nippy air as he tucked his jacket closer.

“Ready to go?” Dean put his hands deep into his pockets.

“Ready spaghetti.” Cas laughed, the sound infectious.

It had been a long time since Dean had heard anyone laugh like that; the sound resonated through his ears and made him smile.

Dean told Cas about the rice and the person he saw earlier riding a bike with sticks constructed into makeshift handlebars.

Cas told Dean about the family of seven that came in and only bought a quarter pound of beef to feed them all for three days, and they both decided that if they ended up in hell they wouldn’t mind, because nothing could be worse than living like this.

When they reached the little restaurant called Ginger’s, they were seated at a table in the back. Cas ordered them both pop, giving the waitress three cents to cover it.

“You pay this time, I pay next time?” Dean offered, fiddling with the napkin in front of him.

“You don’t have to, you don’t owe me anything.” Cas said nonchalantly, sipping his drink.

“Fine,” Dean said with faux melancholy, “if you insist.”

The place was almost empty, but a few costumers sat around and laughed too loudly, undoubtedly drunk.

“It’d be kind of nice to be able to drink away our worries.” Cas laughed softly; sadly.

“See parents all think it’s so much easier being a kid, but it’s not,” Dean took a drink, “See, they can drink and run away and escape from all their problems. Kids, we have to deal with everything as it comes, completely sober.”

“We can’t run, or hide. Hell, sometimes we can’t even leave the house when things get really bad.” Cas murmured, turning his straw in circles.

“And even if we managed to run away, they always find us.” Dean mused softly, “I guess that’s why it’s so difficult being young. Absolutely no escape.”

“I dunno. Being here, being with you, is kind of an escape.” Cas looked up, meeting Dean’s stare. “It’s almost like it’s ’27 again and we’re going to go back home happy and relaxed, you know?”

“I know. I was wondering why I liked being with you so much, and it’s because whenever we’re together I feel like things might be alright again.” Dean sat back in his chair, unable to look at Cas.

The music changed to some jazz song Dean had only heard once or twice but still recognized, and he was hyperactively aware of how intently Cas was staring at him.

“I like being with you too.” Cas replied, putting his elbows on the table. “A lot.”

Dean tried to speak but suddenly couldn’t, his mouth completely dry. Even his attempt at taking a sip of coke through his straw didn’t work as he attempted to say something, anything.

“I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?” Cas furrowed his eyebrows, misreading Dean’s discomposure.

“No! No, no it’s all good.” Dean cleared his throat, his cheeks burning. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, anything.” Cas gave his head the slightest tilt.

“Do you…” Dean took a deep breath, “do you like any girls?”

Cas almost laughed at the question, his hands moving nervously around his cup. “Nah.”

“None?” Dean licked his lips, his gaze falling to Cas’.

“I don’t…” Cas smiled at the table, “not really my thing.”

“Girls, or dating?” Dean dared, his voice lowering until it was barely audible.

“Guess.” Cas whispered back, a small grin creeping up his cheeks.

“Let’s get out of here.” Dean stood, biting his bottom lip to keep from smiling as Cas flushed and stood as well. Dean dragged Cas out by his wrist, anxious, and they walked together outside and down the sidewalk. They walked for what seemed like an hour, just talking and sharing secrets about themselves. When they reached the edge of the ocean on a dock the conversation took a pause and Dean turned to Cas, taking a steadying breath. The moonlight reflected off the waves crashing onto the shore, the sound repeating endlessly in Dean’s ears.

They weren’t too close, but Dean was sure Cas could hear the persistent pounding of his heart. Cas fluttered his eyelashes and kept glancing at the ground; neither boy spoke as the waves danced and collided with the shore.

The moon shone in the dark November sky, visible through a gap in the clouds, and reflected off the water onto the rocks below. They were behind a large building used as a seafood shop during daylight hours, the darkness securing their privacy further. Dean cleared his throat softly and scratched his ear, glancing at his feet.

“Cas, I,” He began, his breath ragged, “I’ve never really done this before. But I just, I- ah, screw it.” He grabbed Cas’ coat with both his hands and pulled the other boy to him, connecting their lips roughly.

Cas gripped his hands on Dean’s waist, throwing himself into the kiss with passion. Dean closed his fists tighter on the fabric of Cas’ jacket and relished into the pure warmth and sweetness of the brunet’s lips.

“You didn’t tell me.” Dean panted when they finally broke apart, “That you were such a good kisser.”

“I thought that might be a bit too forward.” Cas laughed breathily.

“Oh, and eye fucking me across the table wasn’t?” Dean said before closing the inch between them and locking lips again.

Their lips collided in anxious, repressed desire over and over on the dock, the waves punctuating the pauses they took to catch their breath. Cas tasted like Coca Cola and the autumn air they were inhaling hungrily into deprived lungs and it took everything Dean had to finally stay apart for more than a few seconds.

“Dean, I’ve got to get home.” Cas finally confessed as the clock neared ten.

“I don’t want to say goodbye to you.” Dean replied, putting a hand on Cas’ cheek.

“It’s an hour walk home, we still have time.” Cas smiled sheepishly.

“We could have a five hour walk home and I’d still want to spend more time with you.” Dean chuckled, bringing his hand down Cas’ skin to rest on his shoulder.

“So now you know I fancy you, you suddenly can’t stand to say goodbye?” Cas hummed lightly, his smile growing through the darkness.

“You have no idea how hard it has been for me to say goodbye to you, now I just have a logical reason to want you to stay.” Dean winked.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Dean Winchester.” Cas rolled his eyes, leaning forward to kiss Dean one last time.

It started raining when they were half way home, which quickly turned into sleet. The two ran for cover under an awning and huddled under Dean’s jacket as he refused to let Cas take his off.

“It will stop in a few minutes.” Dean assured, ignoring the rapid cold rocketing through his blood.

“Sure, and by then you’ll be dead of hypothermia. Put your coat back on, Dean.” Cas reprimanded.

Dean couldn’t argue with that logic, putting his coat back on and huddling closer to Cas. The midnight streets were empty, so they passed the time with silent kisses placed carefully on each other’s lips. And sure enough, the sleet and rain did stop soon after.

Before the clock struck twelve, Dean and Cas were on the threshold of the Novak’s Butchery. They didn’t dare to even hold hands, despite the darkness surrounding them. For a suspended length of time they just stared into each other’s eyes. Cas watched his breath form little clouds in front of him and Dean wanted nothing more than to press his lips against Cas’ and feel the heat of his body flush against his own, but they had to be okay with just standing there, staring.

“Goodnight, Cas.” Dean said softly, glancing in the direction of his home.

“Goodnight, Dean. Sleep well.” Cas hummed, taking off his jacket.

“What are you doing?”

“Give me your jacket, and take mine.” Cas ordered, pleased when Dean began to take his off. “They’re similar, but mine is much dryer on the inside. I don’t want you to be cold tonight. Also, your jacket probably smells like you.”

Dean just smiled and agreed silently, very much wanting something of Cas’ to hold on to for the night, as they swapped jackets.

“Tonight was fun.” Dean pulled Cas’ collar around his neck and instantly felt warmer and safer.

“Let’s do it again sometime.” Cas tucked himself into Dean’s jacket, the sleeves a bit long.

“Goodnight Cas.” Dean repeated, grinning.

“Goodnight, Dean.” Cas grinned back, neither moving.

“I’m going to leave now.” Dean said, standing completely still.

“Goodnight, then.” Cas held back a laugh. A street lamp flickered across the street.

“Goodnight, Cas.” Dean took a step forward.

“Go home, you idiot.” Cas hit him with one of his sleeves, stepping back and rolling his eyes.

“Goodnight, Cas!” Dean called as Cas turned away and opened the door.

“Go home!” Cas laughed, disappearing.

Dean smiled to himself, shaking his head. The walk home was short, but pleasant in the confines of Cas’ jacket, the night air refreshing. When he pushed open the door as silently as possible, the place was almost completely dark, save for a small candle flickering on the table.

“Sammy, you’ll burn the place down.” Dean whispered to himself as he put it out, kicking off his shoes and crawling into bed beside his brother.

He woke up alone.

“Sam?” Dean yawned, spying his brother sitting at the table, reading. “You’re up early.”

“No, you’re up late.” Sam countered, his eyes barely leaving the page to glance at his brother.

“Sorry, time got away from us.” Dean fought a smile as he remembered the evening before.

“Where were you?”

“You always ask this. I told you, we were at the restaurant.” Dean answered, his tone frustrated.

“Yeah, and then did you take a trip to China?” Sam scoffed, “Dean, you were gone like seven hours.”

“We walked to the water and hung out.” Dean shrugged, considering leaving the bed before deciding it wasn’t worth it. Suddenly, he remembered he was wearing Cas’ jacket, and Cas was wearing his.

“It was storming…” Sam trailed off, calculating, “And you got back less than an hour after it stopped. But you weren’t very wet.”

“Okay, Sherlock, I learned how to use a towel.” Dean laughed, running a nervous hand through his hair.

“That’s not even your jacket.” Sam held his gaze, his voice accusing. “Did you steal that? Is that what you two did, go around stealing things?”

“No! God Sammy, of course not.” Dean became defensive.

“Yeah, sure.” Sam let out a humorless chuckle. “Sure explains the money I found in the pocket of whoever’s coat that is.”

“Money?” Dean perked up, ignoring the irritation at Sam for looking through his pockets while he slept.

“In the pocket there was eight dollars in a rubber band, with a piece of paper that said “stay warm.” Sam explained.

“Let me see.” Dean got off the bed and took the bills from Sam, looking at the note. “Eight dollars.” He whispered.

“Sam, this is Cas’ jacket.” Dean admitted, watching his brother’s face grow more confused.

“Why do you have Cas’ jacket?” Sam asked slowly.

“He gave it to me because his was soaked and he knows our heat is out… he knows our heat is out… eight dollars.” Dean gasped, his fist closing around the money. “Stay warm.”

“What the hell are you on about, Dean?”

“Cas is trying to help us turn the electricity back on.” Dean explained.

“He just gave you money?” Suspicion leaked through Sam’s voice.

“He just gave us _a lot_ of money.” Dean replied. 

“Is Cas more important to you than I am?” Sam cocked his head, closing his book.

“Of course not.” Dean answered automatically.

“Okay.” Sam said after a moment. “Well, you can leave now.”

“Leave where?” It was Dean’s turn for confusion.

“To go give Cas his money back.” Sam said as if it was obvious.

“We need-“

“Oh, so you don’t have a problem with stealing from anyone, even your friend?”

“It’s not stealing he-“ Dean protested.

“Give it back.” Sam crossed his arms, glaring at his brother.

“Fine.” Dean grit his teeth. “Fine.”

“Dean, I-“ Sam stopped himself, shaking his head. “I just wanted to say that I’m glad you have a friend. I’ve not seen you happy in a long time.”

“Save the chick flick moments, brother.” Dean rolled his eyes, still glaring.

“I just don’t want you to lose him because you make a dumb mistake.” Sam pressed his lips together.

“I don’t want to lose him either.” Dean mumbled, fixing his hair in the mirror before putting his hand on the door. “See you later.”

“Don’t be gone long, dad said he’d be home by three pm. He said he wanted to talk to us both.”

“Talking is never a good thing.” Dean scowled, leaving.

Dean walked into the butchery, looking at the rows of meat until a boy near the back noticed him.

“Dean?” the boy asked cautiously. Dean’s head snapped up.

“Um, yeah.” Dean furrowed his eyebrows.

“Castiel has told me a lot about you. I’m Gabriel, you can call me Gabe.” Gabriel smiled, holding out a hand.

Dean shook it slowly, looking over the boy. He had dirty blond hair and a rather long face, and something about him made his aura instantly comfortable.

“Can I see Cas?” Dean shrugged, unable to find other words to say.

“Sure.” Gabriel smirked, “Ay Cassy! Your boyfriend’s here!”

Dean’s eyes grew wide, his eyebrows skyrocketing. “What?!” He stammered.

“You don’t have brothers, do you?” Gabe smirked, “It’s called teasing. Something I’m quite fond of.”

“Right. And yeah, I do have a brother.” Dean corrected him, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Really? Must not like him very much, you’ve been over here a lot lately.” Gabe hummed as Cas came running down the back stairs, obviously having just awoken. His eyes lit up when he saw Dean.

“Hey Dean!” Cas greeted brightly before turning to glare at Gabe.

“Morning loser. Glad somebody could get you out of bed.” Gabe smirked.

“Come on Dean, let’s go to my room.” Cas rolled his eyes, but smiled.

Dean trailed Cas up the stairs into the room he had previously fallen asleep in. Michael didn’t bother looking up from the table in the main room as they passed through. Cas pushed the door closed and sat on the bed, the room void of anything else but a small desk in the corner. Dean sat beside him and took Cas’ coat off, laying it behind them.

“Did you like having my jacket?” Cas said quietly, both of them cautious of the fact Michael was out in the main room and Cas’ aunt and uncle were in the other room.

“Yeah.” Dean bit his lower lip. “But Cas, I can’t take that.”

“Take what?” Cas frowned for a second before changing into the poster child for innocence.

“The money. I can’t do that.” Dean sighed, putting his hand on Cas’ thigh.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cas lied through his teeth, “So let’s not talk about it.”

“Cas.” Dean whined, “Take it back.” He dug his hand into the pocket of his jeans and held out the cash.

“Put away your money, Dean. I don’t. Know. What. You’re. Talking. About.” Cas stressed, his eyes silently begging Dean to play along.

Dean stared at Cas for a long time, biting the inside of his lip. He slowly put the money back in his pocket. “Thank you.” He whispered.

Cas kissed him in reply, moving to straddle Dean’s legs on the bed. Cas’ mouth was warm and his lips were soft as they collided, their bodies flush against each other. Dean hummed in the back of his throat in response.

They tried to stay silent as Cas tangled his finger’s in Dean’s hair, sliding his tongue into Dean’s mouth. Dean clung to the fabric on Cas’ back, dragging the boy closer to him. Cas was thankful nobody had bothered to try and enter the bedroom, but he was acutely aware of the broken lock on the door. The fear of being caught seemed to fuel the increasing heat, Dean’s jeans growing tight as Cas moved against him.

“C-Cas.” Dean murmured, holding Cas’ hips. Cas paused, running the back of his hand down Dean’s cheek.

“I’ve got to get home.” Dean sighed farther into the mattress, his hands sliding to Cas’ thighs.

Cas paused, licking his lips. “Okay. I suppose I can let you go.” He trailed his fingers over Dean’s chest.

“Can… can I keep your coat again?” Dean asked tentatively.

“Of course.” Cas smiled. “If I can keep yours.”

“Of course.” Dean breathed. “Hey, I have a question before I go.”

“Ask away.” Cas leaned back on Dean’s legs, waiting.

“Do you think this will end?”

“Clarify?” Cas tilted his head.

“The depression. Do you think it’s even possible for all this shit to end?”

“Of course it will. Everything ends, Dean.” Cas soothed.

“I just hope it ends before we do.” Dean frowned, tracing a finger along Cas’ leg.

“I wouldn’t mind growing old, but at this rate it seems unlikely.” Cas added softly.

“I don’t think I’m the type that’s meant to grow old. I kind of want to go out fighting, you know?” Dean closed his eyes. “Die with a gun in my hand.”

“Oh Dean, don’t want that.” Cas pleaded sadly.

Dean took a deep breath before exhaling, sitting up and gently nudging Cas off of him.

“I’ve got to head home, my dad wanted to talk to Sam and me.” Dean worried his lip.

“Want me to walk you home?” Cas asked as he climbed off the bed, helping Dean up as well.

“Sure, if you can leave.” Dean smiled, pulling on Cas’ coat.

This time they got a strange look from Michael as they passed by, but the older brother only spared a second before returning to his work.

“You leaving already, Dean?” Gabe cocked his head behind the counter.

The head tilting must be a Novak thing, Dean thought to himself before speaking. “Yeah, I’ve got to get home.”

“Have a good afternoon, then. Mind helping me out here, Castiel?” Gabe hummed, busying himself with wiping the glass.

“Sure, I’m going to walk him home first. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Cas waved as they stepped out the front door, the small bell jingling sharply.

“You look nervous.” Cas commented idly as they walked.

“Yeah, well.” Dean scoffed, looking at the cloudy sky above them.

“Want to tell me what’s bothering you?” Cas asked warmly, keeping his eyes on the pavement.

“My dad never wants to talk. This can’t be good.” Dean seemed to admit mostly to himself.

“It’ll be okay.” Cas assured as they reached the rusty staircase barely clinging to the building.

“Wish me luck.” Dean stepped beneath the staircase and looked around quickly, his hands locked on the collar of his own jacket adorning Cas’ body. Cas’ breath was warm on Dean’s cheeks as the frigid air threatened to thaw the distance between their bodies.

“Thank you, Cas. For everything.” Dean barely spoke, his heart racing.

“What are friends for?” Cas winked, putting his hands in Dean’s back pockets and kissing him quickly.

They forced themselves to separate a second after, horribly aware of how dangerous it was to be seen together like that. When Dean was safely inside, Cas started his trek home.

“Hey Dean.” Sam glanced at the clock, grinning. “Fifteen ‘till three. Good timing.”

“Sorry, we got caught up.” Dean shrugged it off, casually pulling out a chair and spinning it around, straddling it backwards and resting his arms on the top of the back rest.

“I see you forgot to return his jacket, though.” Sam said accusingly. “I hope you didn’t forget to give the money back?”

“Shut up. Shut up, Sam.” Dean glared, grabbing their dad’s knife off the table and beginning to carve patterns into the back of the chair.

“Dean!” Sam protested angrily, trying to grab the knife from Dean.

“Stop it! You’ll fucking stab yourself!” Dean barked, his hand still secured around the knife’s ivory handle.

They spent the next hour bickering over pointless things and playing cards; both anxiously waiting for their dad to arrive. In the middle of a round of Rummy (Sam was winning) the distinct sound of heavy steps on the staircase outside the door made them both freeze. The brothers shared a look of equivalent concern and knowing, both going silent.

They both went shock still as the door handle turned, the wooden frame creaking as their dad stepped into the house.

“Boys.” He nodded, “Glad you’re both home.”

“What did you want to talk to us about?” Dean watched as John took the chair Sam scrambled out of before sitting on the bed, nervously twirling his thumbs.

“I’ll get there, I just walked in. Show your father respect.” John pulled papers out of his worn bag. “I got accepted for the job in Kansas.”

Sam swallowed hard and Dean felt his heart sink.

“How long until we move?” Dean jumped to the chase, linking his hands together.

“Two weeks to move. We’d leave on Friday.”

“It’s Monday already!” Sam gasped.

“I don’t want to hear either of you complain. We’re rotting away here.” John grumbled.

“You’re never here!” Dean cried out, “I just got the money to turn back on the electricity!”

“You what, son?” John turned to Dean with a cold and hungry gaze.

“I- never mind.” Dean corrected himself, worry spilling through him. Sam’s eyes lit up with concern from across the room.

“I know what I heard.” Their dad growled. “Where did you get twenty five dollars?”

“Any way I could!” Dean defended.

“Give it to me. We can use it to help with the move.” John held out a hand- greedy, dirty fingers opening and closing, beckoning for that which he did not deserve.

“I can’t.” Dean replied shakily.

“Give it!” John demanded.

“It’s not here.” Sam spoke up from across the room, his voice trembling violently. Dean cursed to himself.

“Then go get it. And bring it back here.” John hissed, pointing at the door.

“O-okay.” Dean gulped. “I’ll go get it.”

“I gotta hit the head.” John left and slammed the door behind him, mentioning something about returning in a second.

Dean stood and walked over to the bed, giving Sam a look of pure terror. Somehow, Sam could have guessed exactly what Dean wanted to say.

The older brother tried to control his breathing, each breath heavy and fast.

“Sammy, I’ve got to leave. I’m not coming back.” Dean bit his bottom lip, pulling out his duffle bag from beneath the bed. “I love you, brother. Take care of yourself.”

“Dean, don’t leave me. Just give him the money.” Sam began to break down instantly, his voice cracking.

“Sammy, I can’t. It’s enough to get me by for a while. Please, god, Sammy, take care of yourself.” Dean stressed, glancing back at the door. “I’ll be at Cas’ above the butcher shop probably until at least Friday, if he lets me stay.”

“I love you Dean,” Sam trembled, “be safe, okay?”

“I promise.” Dean kissed Sam’s forehead and left quickly, not looking back as he jogged with his duffle bag until he turned the corner. He collapsed against the brick wall of some long-closed building and buried his face in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably into his palms.

Suddenly, he matched. He fit into the hundreds of people littering the streets with despair, huddled against walls and in alleys breaking down so they didn’t break apart.

And he had no clue what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The Fanny Brice song Sam teased Dean about was the song "My Man" which happens to have lyrics that fit well for Cas/Dean)


	3. Together

Dean had to leave quickly; the closer to the apartment he was the more danger he was in. A million thoughts flooded his brain as he ran, his sneakers biting into the concrete. The butchery was of course not far, but by the time he reached its side door he was almost in hysterics. He knew it was barely nearing five, but the sky seemed to be prematurely darkening around him as he tried not to loudly bang on the door. Thankfully, Cas answered quickly.

“Dean.” He said, his voice instantly heavy with worry.

“Cas,” Dean sobbed dryly, “can I come in?”

“Of course.” Cas grabbed his duffle and pulled Dean in by the arm. They ended up in the utility room where Cas threw the duffle down and grabbed Dean by his upper arms, fingers clenching the fabric of Dean’s shirt.

“Are you hurt?” Cas asked seriously, holding Dean upright.

“No.” Dean replied through shaky breaths.

“Did he lay a hand on you?” Cas put his hands on the sides of Dean’s face, “Are you okay?”

“No, no. He didn’t touch me. Cas-“ Dean gripped his shaking hands on Cas’ shoulders, “Cas he got a job Kansas. He said we’re l-leaving Friday.”

“No.” Cas breathed, “No. No no no no no.”

“So I grabbed what I could and ran. Take the money back, Cas. No house anymore, I don’t need it. I’ll use the money I had originally to take care of myself somewhere.” Dean was speaking quickly, trying to keep his voice down.

“No.” Cas shook his head weakly, “No, I can’t. Dean, stay here.”

“I can’t stay with you. I told Sammy I’d be here, but I can’t do that to you. Sam’ll rat me out anyway, he’s afraid of dad.” Dean panted, his hands still attached to Cas’ shoulders.

“Dean, stop being stupid.” Cas said softly, “Stay here. We’ve already got three boys in a bed, what’s four. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Cas, you’re not listening to me.” Dean stressed, his eyes wide. The light outside was fading slowly now and the pale glow was highlighting the curves in Dean’s cheekbones. Damn the approaching winter and the light it was sucking from the sky earlier and earlier.

“I am listening, I’m saying stay here.” Cas said.

“And I’m saying I can’t.” Dean replied with a tone of sadness, taking his hand and curving it around Cas’ face.

There was an anxious pause which lingered in the stale air of the small utility room. Cas released his grip on Dean’s arms and dropped them to his sides, his gaze lingering absently on Dean’s chest. Dean was staring at the ground, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Somewhere upstairs the sound of footsteps creaked through the floorboards.

“I guess we’re out of options.” Cas barely whispered. “Unless.”

“Unless what?” Dean brought his head up and made eye contact with Cas.

“I come with you.” Cas had the nerve to smile in the smallest, most devious way.

“Oh hell no.” Dean shook his head sharply, his voice almost a growl.

“I’m just a waste around here, if I came with you we could be _something_ together.” Cas continued, trailing his fingers up Dean’s arm.

“No, here you’re warm and safe and you’ve got food. Out there you won’t be _something_ , you’ll just be cold and unfed.”

“You’ll be just the same!” Cas snapped.

“I’m already cold, I’m already hungry. I’ll get used to sleeping on the ground.” Dean scoffed.

“You think I’m just going to be okay with letting you do this?” Cas pulled his hand back and folded his arms.

“You have a choice to be here, or be out there. For me, out there is a one way street. My bridge is burning, Cas.” Dean pleaded.

“Where are you going?” Cas said after a moment.

“Probably same place Sam went.” Dean admitted.

“Won’t he know where to find you, then?”

“Here’s the thing, it’s not about finding each other. We both can do that easily. It’s about knowing when the other one wants to be found, and when Sam ran off he wanted to be found. I think he wanted to make sure I would still look for him if he left, and because of that when I found him he didn’t resist leaving with me. This time, he knows I don’t want to be found.” Dean finished with a sigh.

“Okay Dean, I’ll give you two options.” Cas dropped his arms and grabbed Dean’s hands.

“Do I have to choose one of these two options?” Dean raised his eyebrows.

“Yes.” Cas said matter-of-factly.

“Okay. Tell me them.” Dean pressed his lips together.

“You stay here, or I come with you.”

Dean agreed to stay the night as the weather was turning rough quickly beyond the large glass window of the shop, and he said he’d decide on his future arrangements when the sun came up again. Dean and Cas had been alone in the boys’ bedroom for the remainder of the evening, until his brothers returned. Cas’ mother and his sister had been upstairs fixing the holes in shirts and patching jeans, Cas’ father closed shop at nine, and Micheal and Gabriel returned around ten. His aunt and uncle slept through most of the day on a mattress in the corner of the other bedroom, a room that appeared to Dean as 90% bed with the three mattresses covering the wooden floors. His grandparents had another mattress, but both grandparents were currently in the main room where Anna slept and the family ate meals.

“Woah.” Michael bit back a scowl when he walked into his bedroom and saw Cas lounging on the bed, looking at Dean, who was on the floor thumbing through a few of the books by the desk.

“Hey Michael.” Cas sat up, giving a weak smile. “Dean wanted to spend the night.”

“Hello, Dean.” Michael nodded towards him before turning back to Cas. “Castiel, we really don’t have space for guests.” The word space held more value as a variable for all the things they could really not stand to spare.

“Nah, it’s okay. We’ll sleep on the floor in the main room. You and Gabe can have the bed to yourselves.”

“Mother won’t be happy about you sleeping on the wood.” Michael put his bag down beside the bed and moved to take his coat off.

“Mother wasn’t happy about the three of us having to share a queen bed either, but she let Gram and Grandpa move in. She’ll live.” Cas got to his feet right as Gabriel walked in.

“Hey Dean!” Gabe smiled brightly, a stark contrast to the I-just-vomited-in-my-mouth expression Michael wore.

Dean gave a brief smile and nodded. To his immediate relief, Michael decided then was the proper time to leave the bedroom in favor of the main room.

“What’s he doing here?” Gabriel turned to Cas, his voice not unpleasant but instead a mixture of confused and curious.

“Things got rough at home, I offered him a place to sleep.” Cas shrugged. Gabe’s expression darkened with doubt.

“Sure that’s the reason?” Gabe said a bit softer, stepping close to Cas. The latter looked up, his blue eyes reflecting the lamp light.

“Yeah.” Cas bit his lip, feeling small under his brother’s gaze.

Gabe made a soft noise of frustration but dropped the subject, yanking off his coat and draping it over the back of the desk chair. “I’m going to bed soon, you two joining the party?”

“No, I think four might break the bed. We’ll be in the main room.” Cas nodded to the door.

“On the hardwood? You’ll freeze, Castiel.” Gabe scoffed.

“The heating is fine, and besides, Michael would kill us if we stayed in here.” Cas scoffed back.

“Fair enough. At least go steal a quilt from the other room.” Gabe suggested, shrugging out of his shirt and pulling back the layers of blankets. “Goodnight, brother.”

“Night Gabe.” Cas looked over at Dean and waited for the boy to stand before snuffing out the lamp.

They walked out into the main room, shutting the door behind them, and Cas noticed his parents and grandparents had already gone to bed. Anna was left sitting on her makeshift bed constructed of couch cushions and blankets. She was a beautiful girl of nineteen, with long red hair and delicate features. She was the only Novak to inherit their father’s hair color, to Dean’s surprise.

“Hey Anna.” Cas said in a tone Dean thought better suited a business deal than a greeting between siblings. “This is Dean.”

“Hey.” Dean smiled.

“Hello, Dean.” Anna smiled back.

Michael stood from the table and sighed deeply at nothing in particular, giving the other three an exhausted nod before retreating towards the bedroom he had left just moments before.

“We’re going to sleep out here, if that’s alright.” Cas explained as he pushed the table closer to the stove to make a bit more room.

“You can have this, if you want.” Anna stood.

“What?” Cas turned to look at her in the faint light of the room. “Where will you sleep?”

“I’ll go sleep with our brothers. I got used to it before, it’ll be okay for a night. Can I speak to you for a minute in the hall though?” Anna cocked her head, her smile a little too pleasant.

“Uh, sure.” Cas shrugged, glancing at Dean.

In the hall before the staircase, Anna turned to Cas. “Castiel, who is he?”

“He’s Dean.” Cas spoke just a quietly, but he was obviously confused. “I told you.”

“No, you told me his name. Why is he here?”

“He’s a friend who is having a rough time at home, so I let him stay the night.”

“A _friend?_ ” Anna asked.

“Yes, a friend.” Cas half-lied nervously.

“Fine.” Anna sighed, “I don’t know who he is, but if he needs to stay longer I don’t mind.”

“Thank you.” Cas said after a slightly elongated pause. They did not speak again as Anna retreated into the first bedroom, leaving Cas and Dean alone. Cas crossed the room and sat down beside Dean on the four foot wide sleeping surface, putting his arm around the other boy’s waist and leaning into his shoulder. The light was now extinguished in the room; the faint glow of the moonlight peering through the single window on the far wall the only source of light. Dean sighed warmly and put an arm around Cas’ shoulders, kissing Cas’ cheek and nudging him to lie down.

They could barely see each other but they moved in perfect synch as they lay down, pressed together in a way more out of necessity rather than intimacy, but comfortable none the less. Cas wrapped his leg around Dean’s and buried his neck in Dean’s chest, inhaling the bitter smell of cold and salt.

“You’re warm.” Dean whispered, needing something to break the silence. It had been so long since he had been this close with somebody he really liked and the overwhelming feeling of Cas pressed against him was making his heart pound.

“And you’re cold.” Cas mumbled back.

“Thank you for letting me stay here.” Dean whispered.

“Stop thanking me,” groaned Cas. “and go to sleep.”

“I just-“ Dean began.

“Dean.” Cas shut him up, looking up to stare at him. “If you don’t want to sleep we can do something else.”

“I’m sorry, I know we can’t really talk here.” Dean smirked, “Your family will kill us.”

“Oh, what I was thinking didn’t involve talking.” Cas chuckled softly and sat up, moving to straddle Dean. “Besides, we’re far enough from the doors and the heating until is really loud in here.”

Dean made a soft noise of approval as Cas kissed him unsteadily.

“Why are you nervous?” Dean asked suddenly, breaking the kiss.

“I’m not.” Cas frowned, cocking his head.

“Babe, I can sense it in you.” Dean chuckled, running his hand up Cas’ arm.

“I just…” Cas licked his lips, his mind catching on the name, “I was wondering what you’d do if I did this.”

Cas sat back on his knees and trailed a finger along the edge of Dean’s jeans.

“ _Oh_.” Dean responded, his voice catching.

“Good ‘oh’ or bad ‘oh’?” Cas asked nervously.

Dean answered by sitting up and kissing Cas firmly, taking Cas’ hands and guiding them back to his own belt. Cas’ hands obeyed, unbuckling the belt and sliding Dean’s jeans down a few inches. He stopped then, his hands moving to his own belt, causing Dean to squint curiously.

“I’ve got that.” Dean grinned, his hands expertly undoing Cas’ belt and beginning to pull Cas’ trousers down as he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to Cas’ lower stomach.

“Wait.” Cas took a deep breath. “I’ve never done this.”

“I’m a little experienced.” Dean breathed, “Come on, you can’t mess it up. Do what feels right.”

“I’m nervous.” Cas blushed so thoroughly it was practically visible in the darkness.

“If you feel uncomfortable, just let me know.” Dean continued, warmth seeping through his words.

“I trust you.” Cas nodded as Dean pressed his lips to Cas’ forehead.

Dean moved his hands back to Cas’ trousers, this time slower, and continued to remove them until Cas was left in his white boxers and a white button down which was a little too big. The shirt left next, leaving Cas small and vulnerable in his faded blue undershirt. Dean couldn’t help but to stare, pushing his hands under Cas’ shirt and against his torso, feeling the warm skin underneath.

“You’re… stunning.” Dean spoke in a hushed, awed whisper.

Cas kissed him in reply, pushing Dean back onto the pillow and sliding their tongues together. Dean’s hands gripped the material covering Cas’ back and pulled them flush against each other. Cas gasped weakly when Dean flipped them over and began to grind against him, their lips still connected. Dean shrugged out of his button down, chuckling into the kiss when Cas took the opportunity to let his hands explore Dean’s abs under his gray undershirt.

There was a shift in the boards from somewhere beyond the bed, beyond one of the doors, and they froze simultaneously, the air around them suddenly feeling very still and quiet despite the constant groaning wheeze of the heater.

“Quiet now.” Cas scolded playfully in a hushed tone. Dean winked at him, moving his hand to Cas’ ass and giving it a quick squeeze.

“Fair is fair.” Cas pressed his palm to Dean’s bulge in his jeans, making the latter boy gasp.

“You can’t move your hand now.” Dean complained when Cas pulled away pretty quickly.

“O-okay.” Cas smiled a little, returning his hand and rubbing it over the denim.

Dean whimpered a little in the back of his throat, making Cas violently aware of Dean’s hardness, and forcing Cas to pull his hand back.

“Here.” Dean said, sensing Cas’ apprehension, “I’ll do that.” He rubbed himself through his jeans, thanking heaven that the room was too dark to see the deep red color flaming his cheeks. Cas said nothing, watching Dean’s hands move and locking his teeth to his lower lip.

“I’m nervous.” Cas barely whispered, his eyes scared.

Dean paused, furrowing his eyebrows. “Do you want to stop?”

“A bit, yeah.” Cas admitted, unable to make eye contact with Dean.

“Hey, that’s okay.” Dean chuckled, pulling Cas back down against him, “As long as you’re comfortable, I’m happy.”

“Thank you Dean.” Cas hid his embarrassment in the form of pressing his face into Dean’s side, his nose buried in the woodsy cold smell of Dean’s shirt.

They lay together for a while longer before Cas’ short, uneven breaths evened out into longer, deeper ones and Dean felt the tension in Cas’ body drain out. Dean smiled, unsure how Cas could get over arousal so quickly, but moderately impressed. He shifted and wrapped his arms tighter around the other boy’s body, careful not to wake him up.

And so they slept.

* * *

Cas’ father was the first to wake up in the house, as a good shopkeeper must do in the unofficial winter months where daylight was practically as precious as merchandise. Thankfully, however, Dean was awoken by the man getting ready in the room over and Dean had enough time to make the situation in his “bed” as innocent as possible. When Mr. Novak emerged from bedroom number two, Dean and Cas appeared to be sound asleep in the most brotherly way possible, and Cas had no idea.

Cas, Dean found out quickly, liked to sleep in late. By the time Cas drowsily blinked and stammered his way into a sitting up position with one hand rubbing furiously at his left eye, everyone else in the house except the ever-sleeping aunt and uncle and Gabriel, was awake and dressed.

Dean chuckled from the end of the bed, where he sat with a small bowl of rice.

“Morning sleepyhead.” Dean bit back another chuckle as Cas groped the blankets-trying to pull them up closer to his chest. He made a noncommittal noise and collapsed back onto the pillows, curling in on himself.

“Cas, come on. Get up.” Dean poked him, grinning as Cas retreated even farther under the blankets. “Let’s go to the park.”

Cas groaned.

“You don’t work today, do you?” Dean mused.

Cas groaned again in a way that somehow sounded like “No”, and then a groggy “What day ‘st?”

“Tuesday.” Dean replied as Cas sat up again.

“Tuesday? No, I don’t work.” Cas yawned dramatically.

“Cool, let’s go to the park.” Dean repeated, standing and offering a hand to help Cas up.

“I just woke up?” Cas frowned. “Where did you get that rice?”

“Yeah, and it took you twenty minutes. It’s almost eleven!” Dean rolled his eyes, “Maybe if you had been awake an hour ago your mom would have given you some too.”

Cas scowled but took Dean’s outstretched hand and let Dean bring him to his feet. “Give me ten minutes.”

* * *

 

Dean felt like he always ended up at the park; as if he had a strong homing instinct for the place. Plus, it was huge, and free of charge. The day happend to be dreadfully dreary and cold, the chill soaking through Cas’s jacket and settling on Dean’s skin. After a lifetime of New York winters, however, neither boy seemed to mind much at all.

“What if it ends soon?” Cas murmured as they walked. “What if, when it ends, everything goes back to normal? Can we still be friends?”

“Thought we were a bit more than that, Cas.” Dean kept his eyes on the road ahead, avoiding his gaze from the hundreds of homeless camped out on the grass.

“I don’t know what we are, Dean. I’ve never had anything like this. I kissed a few girls when I was fifteen, but then all this shit happened and I’ve not been able to pause long enough to look at anyone, much less fancy them. But now there is you.” Cas paused, “And you know, before I met you I didn’t even wonder if this all would end. But now, now I’m starting to think it might.”

“So what? We can’t predict the future, and even if it doesn’t end, I’ll still be here for you.” Dean worried his lower lip, frowning at the ground.

“So we can still be friends? Or boyfriends, or whatever?” Cas corrected himself.

“ _Boyfriends_. I like that. Cas, will you be my boyfriend?” Dean turned suddenly and stopped walking. Cas wondered if the vacancy around them had any part in this move.

“S-sure!” Cas smiled, “Boyfriends, okay. I like that too. But you know what you just promised me, right?”

“To… cherish you forever?” Dean tried, smirking.

“Not exactly. You promised me that you wouldn’t leave.” Cas almost had the nerve to smirk, pleased and relieved all at once.

“Son of a bitch, you had me forgetting I was sort of on the run here.” Dean shook his head, frowning. “I guess I can’t take back my word on telling you to stay here while I run off…”

“Wait, you’d _let_ me come with you?” Cas froze, his eyebrows drawing together.

“I had some time to think about it this morning when you were asleep and well…” Dean trailed off, running a hand over the nape of his neck. “I could get us both a train ticket. We could live comfortably off the twenty five bucks for a while, and then I could find some sort of work. We’d be free, we’d only have ourselves to take care of. I mean, I’d take care of you though. If you want.”

Cas blinked, stunned. “You included me in all this?”

“I don’t want to be alone Cas, and I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

“I’d have to leave my family…” Cas said as he began walking off the path. He shoved his hands in Dean’s coat, still hanging off his frame.

“Yeah, but you’d see them again! When all this is over!” Dean was getting excited, which puzzled Cas. There was very little to become excited about these days, and so seeing someone jump for joy was quite a sight to see.

“What if it doesn’t-“ Cas began.

“What if, what if, what if, a million what if’s. Let’s talk about the here and now, and give all those what if’s five years.” Dean urged, his hands grabbing at the air in front of him, following Cas with a skip in his step. Light and hope stuck Dean’s words like lightning and begged Castiel to agree, surrounding him with a warm blanket of change and promise. “Let’s change those what if’s and just say whatever happens, let it happen!”

“You’re all dreams, Dean Winchester.” Cas shook his head, resisting the urge to melt into his words.

“Dreams that are easily reality. Forget your fear of what might be, and pretend like the future can be whatever, or pretend like it doesn’t matter at all! Right now, we’ve got each other. We’ve got a fucked up world, and each other and that’s it. Which one do you want to cling to, because the answer’s clear to me, Cas.” Dean was almost out of breath, his eyes almost sparkling in the midday sun.

“Each other.” Cas breathed, finally pausing far from the walkway in the middle of the grass, his eyes locked on Dean’s. “We should cling to each other. And not be afraid that the other will let go.”

“I won’t let go of you, I promise.” Dean said with the intensity of the stars. “Don’t let go of me.”

“I’m nervous.” Castiel admitted, suddenly filled with anxiety.

“You remember last night,” Dean put a hand on Cas’ shoulder, “Just like that, it’s okay if you're nervous, I'm here. Well do it. We’ll run away together, and I’ll make sure you’re comfortable, but I’m going to give you confidence.”

“You teach me how to be brave, and I’ll teach you when to be cautious.” Cas’ mouth formed the faintest whisper of a smile, the anxiety flowing through his veins leaking out through his fingertips.

“Right. It’ll be good, just the two of us. I promise.” Dean lowered his voice, stepping just a little bit closer, almost as if daring himself to kiss the other boy. There was a sort of electricity between them that could neither be contained in words, nor sentence structure. It hummed and buzzed inside their heads and made them both grin wildly, wolfishly.

There was a sense of freedom and reckless abandon they both craved deep inside that stemmed from the previously wonderful times. Life made sense back then, when life was crazy and immediate, flourishing throughout the people and the scenery. All anyone wanted anymore was for life to make sense again; for life to once again be worth all the trouble of living. 

They didn’t return to Cas’ house after that, unwilling to be confined. Instead, they felt like the teenagers they were for once and roamed the streets by the theaters, the ones that always seemed a bit livelier than the rest of the city. In an old Italian shop near the corner of the street they ordered a baguette to share, and this time it had been Dean’s idea.

They took the bread to a bench and dared to sit with their thighs pressed together and their elbows bumping one another, blushing and ducking their heads whenever their limbs got in the way.

“Maybe we should go back soon. We’ve been out for four hours.” Cas chuckled, wiping the crumbs on his hands off on Dean's jacket.

“I don’t want to! Let’s go see a movie.” Dean grinned.

“We can’t get crazy now.” Cas rolled his eyes, his voice heavy with half-sarcasm.

“It’s not that much. I’ll take you Friday!” Dean nudged Cas. “A proper date.”

Cas blushed furiously, unable to hold back a smile. “Okay, deal. So we’re staying until at least Friday?”

“I’ll stay until Friday. But then, you and me, we’re outta here Cas.” Dean almost laughed out loud.

“Nothing’s certain yet.” Cas’ voice grew soft with trepidation.

“You think I’m mad, don’t you?” Dean continued smiling, his teeth almost all visible for Cas to view from less than a foot away. “Absolutely mad.”

“Beginning to, yeah.” Cas teased, patting Dean’s leg. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“Already?” Dean playfully whined, but stood with Cas.

“You make things more exciting Dean. But that doesn’t mean I want to miss my mom’s cabbage soup for dinner.” Cas put his hands in the pocket of his coat and began to walk away, soon followed by an equally eager Dean.

Yeah, Cas thought, they did make a pretty good pair.

* * *

 

Dean did not hear from Sam or his father during the time between Tuesday and Thursday night, and he tried to pretend like it did not bother him. He and Cas occupied their time with pointless, but time consuming trips to the park and walks down to the water where they first kissed. It snowed for the first time that year on Wednesday night, and despite the fear it now instilled in his heart with the promise of upcoming freezes and hypothermia, Dean could remember how exciting it once had been. And of course they planned their adventure (as Cas had insisted it be called, after vetoing Dean’s The Great Escape) whenever they could: on old store receipts with short pencils in the middle of the night, on benches in the street, or even at the park by a deserted area of grass.

Dean was excited and ready to begin, but he understood Cas’ want to linger. Cas had his whole family here, where he could (however subconsciously) look after them, while Dean had already lost his only family. Dean wanted to get on with it so he could distract himself from thinking about the brother he had abando-left behind. He truly enjoyed spending time with Cas, and being with him, but no extent of this could replace what Dean had with Sam, and the worst part was the fact that Dean didn’t even know if his brother was okay. What if leaving had not been the right choice after all?

But, Dean thought, when did he ever make the right choice?

It was these thoughts that lulled Dean into a fitful sleep on Friday’s eve, Cas’ arms wrapped protectively around his waist from behind and Cas’ warm chin nuzzled against his neck. And right as he neared the edge of unconsciousness he craved, the thought hit Dean that he had promised to take Cas out for a movie date the following day.

And then the scariest thought of all: it was also the last day, and last chance, he would ever have to see Sam again.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was sparked from a love of history and Destiel, and I'm having way too much fun writing it.


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